Walking In A Winter Wonderland
by EmiR
Summary: For a normal person, she's very abnormal. He can't help but see parallels, especially when her devotion to her sister is challenged and rewarded. But with the shadow of a dark past hanging over her, is there ever a chance for normality? Jack/OC. T for (rare) language and crime/violence.
1. Chapter 1

**In Which The Central Heating Goes Bust.**

There were two figures curled up in the bed. Well, Tooth thought, bed was a bit of a stretch. It was a blow up air mattress with four duvets thrown over it and some dodgy looking cushions (which she guessed had come from an armchair or couch) were a sad excuse for pillows. Still, there was a tooth underneath those cushions that she needed. Upon further examination the two figures were both female; the younger couldn't have been older than seven, the elder approaching early adulthood. Both had fiery red hair and almost comically high cheekbones which brushed against long eyelashes. The younger was obviously the more beautiful, though; she lacked the four ugly scars that disfigured the elder's face and had obviously cost her an eye.

The apartment that they took residence in was in no better state than their sleeping arrangements. It was a tiny, whitewashed place, above a reputably nasty bar on one of the seediest streets Paris had to offer. It's grimy walls were covered with a beautifully intricate patterned wallpaper, but the mould and peeling had destroyed any pleasant effect it may have had. As much as Tooth hated visiting households like this, she couldn't interfere. It was neither her place nor within her capabilities to help these suffering families. The most she could do was bringing a little joy when the child woke up and found her tooth gone; replaced by a gift which would warm their hearts. This was nothing, however, when she compared it to the few stints she'd had in the slums of Dubai; or the mud huts of Africa. She all but never had to reach these places- few of the less westernized cultures believed in the tooth fairy; many that did had sold their teeth on black markets before she or her helpers could reach them.

No, the girls before her had it good comparatively. Besides, Toothiana had seen conditions from the Great Depression, and the spread of the Black Plague. Two redheads on an air bed shouldn't tug at her heart so.

And with that thought, she dipped her hand under the cushions and flew out of the widow, one tooth richer and one euro poorer.

* * *

Liza's teeth chattered relentlessly. The central heating in the apartment consisted of one leaky radiator which had hissed its death cries just this evening. She had clamped her jaw down as best she possibly could to avoid disturbing Maggie, but if her back couldn't get under the covers soon she knew hypothermia would set in, and a dead sister was no good sister. So, reluctantly, she shuffled closer to the smaller girl curled up in her side and robbed her of part of the duvet. There were four, but none were any good. They were all mouldy, or damp, or torn. Cast-offs, just like the duo using them to preserve what little heat they could. And they were certainly no good for a girl with weak lungs and severe asthma like the cherubic little girl that Liza was determined to protect with her life.

For an eighteen year old girl with no support, money, or legal existence, raising a child was challenging to say the least, and absolutely terrifying to say the most. But Maggie was a good, bright girl, who had quite the knack for getting what she wanted. Rarely from her sister, of course (there was only so much one could steal before coming under suspicion,) more so from the unsuspecting adults who lingered around the richer of Paris' streets. For one so young, Maggie was awfully good at lying and acting. Liza would venture so far as to claim that she and her sister could con anyone out of a few coins. So many gullible, rich fools wandered the streets with more money than sense, and none could resist the temptation of being hailed a hero for saving a poor, lost young girl.

All the same, Liza hated that this was the life that had been chosen for them. They were living in a foreign country, alone, and technically speaking, according to the papers held in Michigan police headquarters, they were dead. She hated the lost innocence most of all. Her own she had mourned years ago- the dog attack which took her eye at seven years old took with it the last of her belief and hope. She was a cynical shell of a person, filled with nothing but love and grief. Love for her sister, whom she knew had just last night abandoned her last hope of the tooth fairy when she never showed (Liza had no spare change on her- she couldn't believe her stupidity in forgetting and letting her sister down); and with the tooth fairy went Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and all of the beloved storybook characters she used to so love. And Liza's grief was made up of fear, desperation and regrets. The list went on… Moments that had changed the course of her life and destiny forever, which all mounted up into one huge void inside of her that only her sister had ever been able to fill.

It was while she was considering this that Liza felt, rather than heard, the widow open. It was no strange ESP or déjà vu feeling- the window was stiff and shook the floor when it was lifted. This was the second break-in this month, as far as Liza was concerned, but the intruders would soon realise there was nothing worth taking. Even so, she pretended to yawn in her sleep, turning over and reaching for the pen knife under her pillow. It was small and the blade was dull, but her father had given it to her as a gift so many years ago that it felt more at home in her hand than a pencil in an artist's.

But she heard no creaking floorboards nor felt any vibrations from footfalls. There was just a quiet, steady buzzing, like that of a fly but softer. Its source was moving very little and neither party stirred for a good five minutes; until the buzzing got louder, her cushion moved and then there was silence. It was an unusual turn of events, even by Liza's standards, but she thought little of it until the next morning, when she awoke to:

"Liza, look, look! See what I found? See, see! I knew she'd come, I just knew it!" There was red hair bouncing up and down as Maggie bounced on the mattress waving something about.

"Let's see what you have their angel. And stop bouncing on the bed or it will," deflate. Liza realised that that had happened at some point in the night already, and that specifically was the reason her back was so sore. She stopped rubbing her back and raised an eyebrow when a shiny euro was flaunted in front of her face. Oddly enough, her first thought was 'It's prettier than a dollar.'

"The tooth fairy came, Lizzy, just look! My tooth is gone!" Maggie said, lifting up the cushion to prove that, yes, it was gone. Liza couldn't help but think that perhaps last night's break-in was the tooth fairy. Wouldn't it be wonderful, she thought, if everything I disbelieved could be real? If I could be happy and innocent again, like before that damned Mastiff took it away? She couldn't hold back the ironic smile, and planted a soft kiss on Maggie's forehead.

"Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say 'Maggie, my dear, she'll come, just you wait and see.'" Liza giggled. She had always had a gift for telling stories and she could use her voice to magnificent effect. It was how she had survived all the years without a guardian- she wore high heels, a blouse and black knee length skirt and feigned an English accent. Somehow, it made her seem that bit more mature. Somehow, it had gotten herself and her sister across oceans and into apartments. If she had any_ girl friends_ to sit and giggle with, she imagined she would say 'A nice rack doesn't hurt either!'

But she didn't. She had a sister and a duty and they would just have to suffice. No imaginary friends, or tooth fairies, or any other idle fancies would ever change that.

* * *

Did anyone enjoy it? This is interesting to write, and I'd love to continue it if anyone else is enjoying it too. Leave us a review if you would like to see it continued, and don't be shy to tell what you don't like, as well. No one can improve without first realising where they make mistakes :) Oh and I'm English, so my spellings are slightly different to lots of you are used to. American English is standard on this site. Pah! ;)


	2. Chapter 2

In Which Our Heroines Discover That There Are No Crocodiles In The Seine.

She hadn't planned on Paris being _cold_: certainly not in March. Wasn't France supposed to be warm and temperate and lovely? Next time they moved on, Liza promised herself, we'll go to Hawaii. Or Australia, maybe. No- that would be too hot and the spiders there… She shivered. House spiders didn't worry her, but earwigs were her kryptonite, and those big, armoured arachnids down under were enough to make anyone want to sleep in a hammock and check under the toilet seat.

Australia was out of question. Hawaii, though…

Mentally Liza scolded herself. Daydreaming wasn't going to get her anywhere, and they needed to eat today. The bread in the cupboard was gradually getting stiffer and greener, so perhaps it was time for some groceries. Of course that meant that the duo needed money and money was something Liza was fairly good at procuring. Such thoughts were for later in the day, though. She had promised Maggie that they would go to the Easter egg hunt in the Champ de Mars; partially because she was still enamoured with the Eiffel Tower but too petrified to make the journey up. Easter wasn't usually a big thing between the sisters. Normally it consisted of Liza getting Maggie an egg and Maggie drawing her sister a picture of a bunny with ribbons in its hair, carrying a wicker basket full of rainbow coloured eggs. This year, though, the tooth fairy's impromptu visit had rekindled the little girl's love of stories and belief in legends, something for which Liza was eternally grateful.

They were flying down the streets on a bicycle someone had stupidly left unlocked to a railing just around the corner from the apartment. They would return it, this evening, and make the poor fool feel ridiculous for searching all around Paris to find it exactly where left it. Maggie was sitting on Liza's shoulders, waving her arms about and threatening to tip the bike. Liza was giggling to herself; no moment shared with her sister was dull.

"Maggie!" She shrieked as they went flying around a bend, narrowly avoiding a low restaurant sign.

"Again!" Was the child's reply. Liza couldn't hold back the chuckle that shattered her disapproving exterior. "See! You're not angry!"

"Not angry! I'm furious! In fact, I'm gonna take you to the Seine and feed you to the crocodiles." She said, turning the handlebars brutally and knocking over a chair outside a fancy looking restaurant.

"Don't be silly, there are no Crocs in France!"

"How would _you _know?"

" I've never seen one." Maggie's voice was smug, as children's often are when they think they have a bullet proof argument.

"They're probably hiding from you. They won't mess with you 'cause they're scared of me!" So is everyone what with these scars, she added mentally. As much as her appearance unnerved the people around her and quite often herself as well, she couldn't show that to Maggie. Never. Her sister must remain immune to the fear of people who are different- she must stay innocent and accepting. Liza would die before she allowed such bitterness into her sisters' heart.

"Don't be such a dummy! Look! The Eiffel Tower!" The wonder in Maggie's eyes when she saw the structure had quickly spread to Liza upon their first view. Though Liza was no longer was in awe of it, she loved that it could inspire her sister with such happiness.

"Aren't you used to it yet?"

"Never." It was as if Maggie had read her mind and chosen the exact word to set her mind at ease.

"Good. Come on, I don't have the change to get in the gates. We'll hop the fence over here." She lifted Maggie off her shoulders and over the fence. She stashed the bike under a bush and looked around for something to help her climb over. The fence was about 6 foot, just taller than Liza, and she couldn't get a good grip with her feet. There was a nearby tree, with a limb that was just about long enough to get over. It took her three attempts, but she managed to shimmy along the tree branch and drop down in the park. Maggie appeared round the corner with streaming eyes.

"There's no-one here, Li. They've cancelled the Egg Hunt!" Devastation was written clearly over her face. "The Easter Bunny never came."

"Don't you be silly. He's probably just hidden the eggs really well this year!" She couldn't help it. Lying was so cruel, but telling the truth would be so much more so. Besides, the flicker of hope on the little girls face was worth it. It just meant she had to find eggs here now; easier said than done.

"You really think so?"

"I really do. You go look over… what are you staring at?" The red head had noticed the younger girl's stare over her shoulder, but there was nothing there.

"Don't you see them? Hear them?" Maggie whispered.

"Who? Maggie?" Liza's concern was growing.

"Shhh! It's them Liza; all of them!"

"Maggie! Tell me who. You're scaring me, baby!" Maggie had never told her sister to hush. Liza's voice was one of her favourite things in the world.

"It's Santa! And the Easter Bunny, he came! Who're they, Li? The hummingbird lady and the short man. Is that the Sand Man? Oh, wow!" Maggie rambled urgently. Liza let out a sigh of relief. It was just an over-active imagination, and now Maggie had 'seen' the Easter Bunny she wouldn't have to find some eggs to hide. "She's so pretty… Like a fairy. That's it! She's the tooth fairy, Li! Liza?"

"Hush, baby. I can't see them. I'm probably too grown up. Go talk to them if you like, that's better than an egg hunt, wouldn't you say?"

"No! They're arguing with that pretty boy! You must see, Li!"

"It's alright. Come on, then, if they're arguing we'd better not interfere, had we?" Resisting the urge to roll her eyes was difficult, but Liza managed.

"Can we go and get some eggs on the way home? Please? We can boil them and paint them!"

Liza giggled and nodded, making her way to the exit. She had no idea that that was certainly not the last she would see of Maggie's 'imaginary friends'.

* * *

Thanks to FrostbittenRose for my first review :)

Hoping that the story will take off some now the prologue's over. This chapter being set on Easter Day, the next (and rest of the story) will be starting on Boxing Day, months after the defeat of Pitch.


	3. Chapter 3

In Which We Discover The Intricacies Of Threatening People In Airports

**9 months later… December 12****th****.**

"Can you see it?"

"There it is! It's going round again!"

"Wait for it over there and grab it when it comes out, okay?"

"Lizzy, it's yours, just there!"

"Gotcha! Just one more bag, angel."

The Detroit Metropolitan County Airport was swarming with hurried bodies pushing for their luggage or exit. It certainly didn't help that outgoing flights had been cancelled due to the blizzards raging outside. Liza had an awful lot of experience with airports but she had to admit that this was one of the worst landings she'd suffered through. The whole building was a claustrophobic's worst nightmare- there was seemingly no escape from the masses of people, and that had put Maggie into a panic. Of course, Maggie just happened to be asthmatic too, and Liza could practically see her airways closing as she got more and more worked up. That was just the start.

When (finally) a podgy, balding, but fairly pleasant man who had been sitting a couple of rows behind them on the plane offered up an inhaler, it seemed to Liza that the day could be recovered. In retrospect, she felt foolish- very foolish- for having thought that. Following closely on the heels of the asthma incident was the security-took-my-teddy incident which took another half an hour to resolve. Liza was developing a mantra by this point, turning the thought over and over in her head until it became rather stale and stopped helping. 'No one said parenting was easy. Head down, hold hands, don't meet anyone's eyes.' Despite what proud parents or guardians or boastful siblings might say, no child's behaviour was perfect, and if it was, there was probably something not quite there with the child. Usually, it was the ability to think for themselves that had been drowned out by constant pestering and instruction.

The final straw was the moment Maggie gasped "Look, Liza!" and pulled away into the crowds. Liza knew searching was futile, but what else was she to do? She had already told security, and she certainly wasn't going to stand around and wait for her sister to show up. So, off she went, cringing every time she heard the name Maggie Kennedy called over the loud speakers. Drawing attention to the sisters was the last thing they needed, especially now that they were back in Michigan. Liza scoured shops and cafes, scanned every face she came across, asked people whether they had seen 'a girl about this high with hair the same colour as mine'.

As it turned out, someone had. It was, to say the least, an unfortunate someone.

"Mouse, my girl, it's been quite some time. Three years? No, four! How's that sister of yours? I could hardly believe it when I heard the name being announced. My, hasn't she grown!"

Liza might as well be looking into the eyes of Medusa, for all the movement she was capable of. The speaker was fairly comparable to the Gorgon in looks- her eyes were grey, sunken deep into her skull surrounded by blackened eyelids. She reminded Liza of a lizard, the way her skin was pulled too tight over her face as a result of her ridiculously greasy bun to make her cheekbones and chin stick out, and stretch her mouth too wide. She had the unfortunate habit of licking her lips far too often, making them constantly chapped and reinforcing her reptilian image. This woman's appearance didn't even scratch the surface when it came to presenting her nature- something Liza knew all too well.

The scarred girl may have possessed a magnificent voice, but for the time being it eluded her as she gaped, opening and closing her mouth in a most inelegant fashion. It had been an awfully long time since anyone had called her mouse. She never wanted to be called by that name again.

" C...Caster…" Her voice was a pathetic squeak- it shook her out of her reverie and forced her to clear her throat.

"He's not here, sweetie, but I'm sure he'll be so happy to see you've come home! You have decided to come back to us, haven't you? We can train up that weed of a girl you call a sister, just like we did you. You were much stronger though- better fed. Have you been… struggling? I can tell, sweetie. I can smell the desperation from you."

"Set, where's my sister?" Gradually, speech was returning. But it was taking its sweet time in coming. There was nothing, nothing in the whole world that could possibly have scared Liza more than the idea of the Brawlers having her sister.

"Still your first concern? Isn't that what got you in trouble in the first place? You put her before Caster, _Mous_e; you must have expected the fire!" Set grinned when the redhead flinched visibly at the name. "You don't like me calling you that do you? What was it that Bluetooth called you again…? Scars, am I right? Something tells me you'll hate that even more."

Liza inhaled, clenching her fists. Her fear was growing, but so was her fury, and it prevented her from shrinking back like she used to when such words were used upon her. The Brawlers were a nasty bunch. A small but very powerful gang in Detroit; where Mafia presence was decreasing rather rapidly, the smaller gangs rose up. Originally a group of minor ankle biters, muggings and petty theft were the only specialisation the Brawlers could offer- until Caster took over. He was typically what you would expect from a kingpin crime boss: sharply dressed, very organised, incredibly ambitious, and with a brutal mean streak.

"Tell me where my sister is or I shout bomb, bitch." Maternal instincts became bravado, which only added fuel to her anger- its fire was burning as brightly as her hair.

"Look at you, all grown up now!" It was Set's turning to flinch from the withering warning glare. "We don't have her, Mouse. Believe me; if we did I'd be on my way to Caster now, with your little angel tied up in the boot. You've crossed the Brawlers sweetie, and you of all people know that we don't fight fair."

Liza looked around. It was surreal that people were still shoving past, tripping over one another around her conversation; it almost made the situation seem almost normal. It couldn't be any less normal if the Easter Bunny decided to pop in and tell them to forgive and forget. Liza knew that Set did not make empty threats.

"I don't play games anymore Set. It's been a long time since… Bluetooth?" Liza was stunned again into silence by the appearance of the man behind Set. For he was most definitely a man now- when she had last seen him he was (and there was no other way to describe him) a gangly little nerd.

"I brought you mocha, two sugars and…" Unless Set was planning to lick it from the floor, Liza imagined that she wouldn't be drinking that mocha.

"Dammit! Clean it up! I was just leaving anyway… Consider our business concluded for now, Mouse."

Liza had to admit that she was mildly impressed by how easily Set pivoted on the thin heels of her obviously overpriced shoes, but didn't let it distract her from enveloping the man staring at her in a tight bear hug.

"Look who survived the fire after all. They told me you were dead." The ghost of a smile passed his lips, but it was melancholy and nostalgic.

"They would. Have you seen my sister?" For a moment, Liza felt bad for the awful response, but she knew her priorities and she would stick to them.

"The redhead pocketing muffins from the Starbucks downstairs? I knew she reminded me of someone."

"Seriously? Now I owe you my life and my sister. Dammit, Jay, will I ever get to return the favour?"

"Not in public, Scars, it's Bluetooth. Would you stab me if I told you that you need to get out of Michigan?"

As grateful as Liza was for the fact that not every person in the Brawlers belonged there, and that Jay Cromwell, or Bluetooth, was among them- she still wanted to hit him for the stupid remarks he made sometimes. She wasn't going to risk her sister being hurt, and staying in Michigan was a downright guarantee of that happening.

"You have any bright ideas on where I should go, nerd?" She said scathingly.

"Try a little town up north. Burgess. In a couple of days it'll be cut off from everywhere with snow. It's as inconspicuous a place as any." Bluetooth spoke so matter-of-factually sometimes that Liza wondered if he understood sarcasm.

"Huh. You've not changed a bit."

"You have. Hopefully I won't see you around, Scars."

And with that, Liza left in search of her sister, with only a curt nod as a goodbye. Hopefully they could get out of this airport by nightfall.

* * *

And the plot thickens-we discover some more of Liza's past and explore her maternal side.

Just so you know, I don't intend to reveal an awful lot too early. Liza is an enigma and will remain so for a good many chapters yet. I can promise that next chapter involves cake, stress and a nice gossipy scene between two established characters.

Thank you to my reviewers, as well, you all deserve a mention: CrystalizedWinds, StrangeAmberI.D, Everto Tenshi and DoctorWhotaliaandtheOlympian s

I honestly do a strange little happy dance when I get reviews- it make me all warm and fuzzy inside XD So, of course, I encourage you to leave a review, especially if it involves some decent constructive criticism.


	4. Chapter 4

In Which Cakes Develop The Power Of Flight

The very moment the cab drove into Burgess, Liza liked the look of the place. Most prospective buyers were interested in the schools, parking and shops in the town; Liza had home-schooled Maggie for 4 years, and would continue to do so, had never driven a car in her life (legally, at least) and certainly did not own one, and trendy clothes were irrelevant to her as long as she and her sister _were_ clothed. What mattered to Liza was that there was a place to sleep, a roof over their heads, and preferably a park or pool where the girls could escape from their inevitably cheap and dingy hidey hole. Burgess, as an added factor, was a reasonably small sized town which would be scanned over should someone come looking for them. Liza had to wonder why Bluetooth had sent them here specifically- he must have spent time in town at some point to know how ideal it was. There was only one problem- Burgess was far too nice. Nice towns rarely had cheap motels, and it was too easy to form an attachment. All this meant was that, unfortunately, Burgess was another short stay.

As much as the girls wanted to settle, this was not the place.

Liza refused to dwell on such thoughts, though, when she was home! America may not have held many pleasant memories for her, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was nowhere else in the world she would rather struggle through life. It upset her to think that Maggie had never had the chance to form enough of an attachment to call a place home, and that was what she had wanted from her return to Michigan- to re-establish her own familiarity and hopefully give her sister back some of the life she might have had.

Burgess was definitely a good town, and a fresh start, but Liza knew from experience that the first days were the worst. She would have to pay for a motel room- perhaps it was her experience with Set and the memories that it reawakened but the teen was desperate to feel legitimate for once. She would have to buy in some food, get Maggie to rest until the jet lag had worn off, and find everything vital out from the suitcases. To do all this she would have to get some of the money she had Bluetooth stash before she left, and she was worried about relying on him too much. She had no idea if she could trust him still, but to doubt his loyalty would lose her the last person who might call themselves her friend in the world. She was terrified, too, of getting him into trouble with Caster- she didn't need him to receive a mauling from those damned dogs like she had.

Certainly, there was a lot of work to be done, and Liza intended to get straight on it.

* * *

It was days like this when Jamie _knew_ that he was around. There was a chill in the air, a fine dusting of hoar-frost on the grass and icicles hanging from the living room window sill. The water pipes had frozen too, much to Burgess' adult's chagrin. Yes, Jack Frost was around somewhere, and Jaimie would find him. Kitted out in the warmest of his coats and the new scarf his mother had attempted to knit, he dashed out the door.

As it turned out, Jack Frost found _him_. Or, rather, his snowball did- right between the shoulder blades. Of course, everything escalated from there. Jamie had been practicing, but he couldn't hit Jack if he couldn't find him, and being able to fly _was_ an unfair advantage. Suffice to say, the snowball fight was fairly one sided, even despite the fact that Jack was going easy on him. It didn't take long before Jaimie was face down in the snow, and the familiar smirk of the white-haired boy was above him.

"So, how's the weather down there?" Jack asked, offering his hand to pull the younger boy off the ground. "I hear it's chilly this time of year."

Jamie laughed- Jack could always make him laugh. He was the guardian of _fun_ after all, and certainly did his best to live up to the title.

"It's gonna get colder up there now!" Jamie punctuated his sentence with a sneaky snowball, but Jack had seen it coming and dodged out of its way. Soaring over his head and into the road, the missile hit a passing cab dead on, causing the passenger to jump, and a little girl on her lap to wave at them.

"New kid?" Jack asked, forgetting the snowball.

"I dunno… I haven't seen them before." It was rare for Burgess to get visitors- there was nothing to attract tourists- and anyone coming into town this late in the season was odd. There wasn't a big city for miles, and most people were too scared of the unexplainable blizzards that tended to frequent the town to make the long journey; in a few weeks, no one would make it down those roads without a heavy duty vehicle.

"Well, let's go find out then!" Jamie had a sneaking suspicion that Jack only wanted to find out whether the girl from the cab was waving at him. Since he started amassing believers, Jack had become excitable whenever the opportunity arrived to meet someone new- and who could blame him, after being alone for three centuries?

"Okay… I wonder why they're here."

"Probably visiting family or something. Oh, by the way, Tooth told me to tell you that she got Sophie's first tooth. She said that she needs to brush more."

"How are the Guardians? I haven't seen anyone but you in ages!"

It was true. Jamie didn't know what to expect when the guardians left after defeating Pitch, but he figured they'd at least stay in touch. But they only ever sent messages through Jack. He knew they were busy, protecting kids and organising holidays and all, but he was their last believer at one point! Surely he deserved better than the cold shoulder? It sounded selfish when he thought it outright…

"Busy as always. They're great and all, but they can be so _boring_! Honestly," Jack leaned in and whispered in a hushed tone, "I think they're getting old!"

Jamie couldn't help but snort. It was good to have a friend like Jack.

* * *

"Liiiiiiiiiizaaaaaaaaa!"

The girl let out a sigh. Maggie's jet lag still hadn't worn off, but it was affecting the girl bizarrely. It was always like this; one moment she would be charging around the room like she was on some kind of sugar rush, the next she would be flat out asleep on the floor. In some ways Liza was glad that the Airport incident happened on a rush, as it meant that her sister was up and being noticed. If Maggie had, for example, hidden away in a clothes rack and dozed off (Liza sighed deeply at the memory) it could have taken hours to find her.

She may have loved the kid completely and unconditionally, but she would be the death of her.

"Lizaaaaa!"

She sighed again.

"Maggieeeeeeee!" She imitated.

"There are some boys at the door! One of them was in Paris!" Maggie sounded excited, rather than scared, but Liza knew better. Her blood felt cold- had they had a tail all this time? "Liza! They have cake!"

Normally, the scarred redhead would have giggled at her sister's naivety, but not now. She sucked in a breath, and walked out of the tiny en-suite she had been scrubbing down. It took her an awful lot of control to make it to the door, where Maggie was chatting away with a brown haired boy. He looked surprised to see her face (almost everyone she had ever met was) but more curious than scared. She leaned against the door, scanning the corridor. Maggie had said boys after all- plural. Acting natural was the way to go about it, the teen thought. Maybe they'll just leave.

"Yes?" Her voice was carefully schooled- cold and formal but not entirely unfriendly.

"We, umm, well, you were new and, err… We brought cake!" The boy lifted his arms in the air in a gesture of surrender. Liza couldn't help but shake her head and smile.

"Where's the other kind soul that brings the so far non-existent cake, then, kid?" Liza added some warmth to her tone, and an edge of irony. She felt like she was mixing some strange potion when she used her voice to manipulate. Caster had always said it was like…

"Uhh, my friend Jack just, erm, went to, err… Pee! Yeah, he went to pee!"

"And he took the cake with him, did he?" Liza couldn't help feeling mildly disgusted as well as amused. She relaxed some- no kid being used as bait would stumble so much on their words. She knew better than anyone. Maggie waved her arms in front of her, gesturing to what Liza could only describe as thin air.

"Can't you see him Li-li?" Liza looked at the younger redhead and shook her head. "In Paris we saw him! At the egg hunt!"

"Now, sweetie, we didn't have an egg hunt, remember? We bought eggs on the way home. I'm sorry, she has quite the imagination. I envy her sometimes." The charm was smeared over her words like honey. "I'm Liza, this is my sister Maggie. And you are…?"

"Jamie. I'm sorry Jack's taking so long with the cake…"

"No worries. As long as he's washed his hands, right?" Internally, Liza grimaced. She wasn't touching that confection, and neither was Maggie...

"But he's right THERE Liza!" Maggie wailed so loudly that Liza had to lift her in her arms and stroke her hair.

"Hush baby, it's alright. How about you tell me what he looks like, hey? Then I can see him there too, like you!" She sent an apologetic smile to Jamie who was looking awkward standing in the doorway. "Come in, please. We'll wait for your friend." As it turned out, waiting wouldn't be necessary.

"Hey! Get out of Liza's spot! Liza, he's got silver hair and blue eyes and he's really pretty and why's he allowed in your spot on the couch when I'm not?!"

Liza had a better question in mind…

"Why is there a cake floating over my sofa?!..."

* * *

A much more light hearted chapter than the last, although I have discovered how difficult it is to switch perspectives from an OC I know most everything about, to an established character of whom I know only what is told in the movie.

Thank you to reviewers from last chapter: CeeCee-chi, CrystalIceFire, Everto Tenshi and DoctorWhotaliaandtheOlympian s. Specific thanks to Everto Tenshi for the correction- it's not picky, every little helps! And it help me pick up that taxi's are cabs in America so I didn't bodge that up in this chapter. Also, DoctorWhotaliaandtheOlympian s asked about when Liza and Maggie will meet the gang. I don't want to rush the story too badly or ruin a nice little twist I have coming up, but I can say that Liza will meet them all properly quite a good while before Maggie gets a chance to.

Thanks for reading, and drop me a line if you have any queries, comments, suggestion. Seriously, I don't bite :)


	5. Chapter 5

In Which Liza Loses It.

"I can explain!" Jaimie shrieked simultaneously with Maggie's shriek of "It's Jack!"

Before Liza's very eyes, the cake placed itself on the tacky green table between the couch and bed. The redhead was anything but a fool and imagining cakes flying around the room was definitely foolish. But there it was; chocolate frosting on top of delicious looking sponge on top of nothing.

"Kid, if you can explain, do it fast. Going into freak-out mode here!" The teen was blinking repeatedly, something of a nervous habit she had developed when she was confused. It was something that she had picked up while running with the Brawlers- whenever Bluetooth was around it used to be a near-permanent state for her. He had always impressed her, but sometimes his computer programs could do magnificent things, things that, to a small desperate girl, seemed like magic.

She was feeling that all over again. And Liza couldn't stand feeling like a child again; not with the childhood she had endured.

"It's… D'you wanna sit down?" Jamie took the glare he received as a no. "You're… Maggie's right. About Jack, I mean. You can't see him 'cause you don't believe- you're grown up."

Liza sighed. She was under the impression that the boy had said he could explain- not spout off rubbish about imaginary friends. If she hadn't just seen flying cakes and felt an unfortunate reminder of a past life, she probably would have giggled and invited Jamie to explain. As it was, Liza's mind was completely frazzled; the last few days had been nothing but pure chaos. In fact, it was hard for her to convince herself that she wasn't just seeing things.

"Who's this Jack guy think he is anyway, floating stuff around my room?"

Liza turned to her sister upon hearing a frustrated sigh escape her lips. Maggie was looking right at her, unblinking; the polar opposite of her confused self.

"He was all white, like a doll; that hadn't been painted yet." The words struck a chord in Liza's heart- they were part of a poem she had recited to Maggie some months ago… After she asked about the fire. About her parents. She knew what Maggie wanted her to do, and she continued, voice trembling.

"Jack Frost had started to paint him  
the way he always painted  
the Maple Leaf (Forever)."

"He's here Liza. Just look! Please."

So Liza did look. She looked at Jamie, who was staring between the sisters in complete bewilderment. She looked at the cake, sitting on the table looking rather delicious. She looked at her spot on the sofa, where one of the cushions had slipped slightly sideways. And she looked at Maggie who was focusing on some spot in front of Liza's face. She looked there; focused her eyes on the empty space in front of her, for the first time noticing the chill in the air and the rather attractive face that was examining her, as if she were a particularly interesting animal who had just learned a new trick.

Liza's immediate reaction was to bring up her hand and deliver a swift slap to his cheek. She let out a little squeak as her hand passed straight through the ghostly visage of the pale boy and his image dissipated like smoke.

"What happened? Where's he gone?" the redhead squeaked, turning around on the spot and scanning the room.

"Lizzy? You saw him! He's still there!" Maggie ran up and hugged her sister's legs, oblivious to the panic spreading like fire through her veins. Jamie, observing the scene with confusion written plainly on his face, did notice it. He saw the teen's eye's fill with fear (something he was fairly familiar with- he had fought the boogieman, after all) as she looked around the room.

"Um, Liza, are you alright?"

* * *

The room was giving way; crumbling into a darker and far more sinister place. She remembered it well. Hours after hours she had spent there, hiding and seeking, picking pockets and acting innocent. She was the Brawlers' Wild Card, back then. No one noticed the little girl, and even fewer suspected her; she was the perfect tool for gathering information off the streets. The basement of the 'Moment d'évasion' was essentially the common room for the Brawlers. Set had locked her in once, told her that one of the men had the key, and that she had to escape if she wanted to get home that evening. Mouse was eleven years old.

The first thing she ever did when Set gave her a task was kick the witch in the shin. Set found it endearing when Mouse was just a cute little girl, but as she grew, the hag had begun to wear padding to meet the ankle biter. Set smacked her hard every time, but the fiery girl never did give up the habit.

Once Set had left she was left alone in the room of thugs. She turned around and scanned the room for a familiar face but saw no-one. If only Bluetooth were there; he had always taken pity on her. He had only been a teenage himself, albeit a brilliant one. He could have told her who had the key, or helped her to hide and pounce through the door next time someone entered. Mouse had developed a painful case of hero worship for the young man, something that Caster was anything but happy with. From the moment he had introduced his pet into this world he had re-enforced to everyone that she was _his,_ and no-one else was to hurt her in any way, shape or form. Apparently, Set never got the same speech.

The girl was utterly lost in the enormous stone-walled cellar, which doubled up as a storage space for the club upstairs. She stood in the centre of the room, sizing up the bulky men, one of whom had the key. Mouse never did understand the concept of these little games. Caster told her that they would make her stronger, faster and sneakier, as he held her hands and told her he'd look after her. There was no doubt in Mouse's mind that Caster was the perfect father for her- despite Bluetooth's protestations. He was certainly better than her birth father that she only saw at weekends. He brought her presents, but never really spoke to her. Mouse didn't think he liked her.

Her eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, but she didn't see the lithe woman approach behind her.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a dump like this, darlin'?" Her accent was so thick… Mouse couldn't place it- she wasn't exactly well travelled. She spun around trying to find the voice's source.

"Where are you? Show yourself!" Liza mixed command and confidence into her voice like the waitress's shook Caster's cocktails.

"Well ain't you just the High Roller? D'you talk to everyone like that?" A woman steeped out of the shadows behind a wine barrel. "What you wastin' your time with loser's like us for, Doll?"

"I'm valuable, even Caster say's so! So stay back!" Mouse's stomach muscles clenched as she drew in a deep breath. The woman choked on a laugh.

"So you're the Boss-man's protégé. The Mouse. Pleased to meet you. They call me Nevada. I 'spect you will too."

"I don't want you name." Bluetooth told her to be rude to any Brawler trying to strike up conversation. Apparently they just got bored and gave up.

"Nah, I know. You wanna get out of this dump, right? You gon' let me help?"

"How are _you_ going to help?" Mouse said indignantly- she didn't like people assuming she couldn't look after herself.

"Like this." Nevada winked and headed over to the main group of men. "Nails! Chuck us the key will ya, I need to piss!"

"Stupid bird, shoulda gone before you were assigned to brat duty!"

"Pack it in, or I'll let slip what ya Doll told me about ya little…_ problem__._" She caught the keys before she had even finished her sentence. She looked at Mouse and jerked her head at the door, before walking out. Mouse crept over in the shadows; most of the Brawlers could care less about playing the little game. They were too busy draining all the stored kegs to notice the girl leave until she slammed the door behind her, locking them in. The key was on the first step, and Nevada was nowhere to be found.

* * *

When Liza came to, she was sitting in her spot on the couch. Maggie wasn't in the room, nor was she in the grubby en suite. Liza was about to run for reception when she heard laughter outside the window- laughter she would recognise anywhere. On a huge oak branch outside the window, Jamie and Maggie were sat chatting about something or other. The fear for her sister put knots in her stomach- she must be a good 20 feet from the ground.

"Maggie!" Her absolute horror cracked her voice.

"Liza! Look how high I am!" Maggie grinned with pride.

"How did you get up there?!" Liza sucked in a deep breath. "Never mind that, how are you going to get down!?"

"It's okay, Lizzy, Jack can fly me down again. He flew us up here!"

"I'll hear no more about this Jack character! I've tried being nice but look at you. Baby, if you fell, you could die!" Liza was hysterical, racking her mind for a way to get the children down. "I'm going to find a ladder! No, a rope! Don't move an inch!"

"It's okay, really! Jack will get us down." Jamie called out.

"You! You turned up bringing this Jack with you, and now look what you've done! I've got to rescue you too!" Liza had never turned her fury on a child, and she felt sick for doing so, but Maggie was all that mattered to her in that moment.

"Liza! How can you say that? You saw him too!"

"No, Maggie. I'm tired with jet lag and you're not in any better frame of mind. That is the end of this discussion. Period." Liza was hyperventilating by this point. "You will not move a muscle!"

Liza bolted out of the door and down the stairs at a ridiculous pace, jumping down three or four steps at a time. She threw herself at the reception desk- the woman behind the desk looked stern and unimpressed as ever.

"Rope! My sister… stuck up a god-damn tree...! Help me, dammit!" The teen panted, irritated by the bored look on the woman's face.

"Not that girl coming in just now, ma'am?" The receptionist rolled her eyes and gestured to the entrance, where a little redheaded girl was scrambling round the corner and through the glass door.

Liza hadn't felt so humiliated in a long time. She was glad to see her sister safe, of course, but Maggie was in a lot of trouble. The glare she gave the girl could have plain melted a weaker-willed child.

"Maggie Kennedy, we need to talk."

* * *

This was really difficult to write for some reason :/

So, we meet a new character from Liza's shady past, and begin to understand the delicate frame of mind she has been holding up for the four years she's spent with her sister. I know to many of you Liza's young age during her time with the Brawlers will seem unrealistic, but there is a very reasonable explanation, I promise ;) Oh, the extract I used is from the poem 'First Death In Nova Scotia'. It's quite apt, I feel, for explaining death to a child, since it is written from a child's POV.

Thank-you to everyone who reviewed- Anymeaddict, DoctorWhotaliaandtheOlympian s, Paigerz and Everto Tenshi.

I know I say this every chapter but feel free to leave a review :D They make my day.


	6. Chapter 6

In Which The Cheese Introduces Itself To The Platter

"So," Set began, a new bruise threatening to encompass the entire left side of her face. "Let's talk."

The bindings were tight and chafing, not haphazard and easy to slip out of like last time the lizard tried to knot them herself- she had obviously had help. That meant that there was someone else in the basement, watching silently, and waiting like a snake to strike from cover. Judging by the figure eight knot secured by a bowline hitch to the chair… it was Phantom. He was only Brawler with half a brain these days. All of the others had used what little intelligence they had and run.

Bluetooth smiled. A fourteen year old girl had seen it coming before all of them.

Admittedly, he thought, Scars didn't leave because of the nearing storm, but instead to protect her sister. In fact, it was almost entirely the girl's impromptu departure that was responsible for the Brawlers' state of disarray. Bluetooth remembered the fire (how could he forget?) with its deceptively beautiful light and billowing smoke. He remembered sitting, and crying, and blaming himself. He remembered the woman that came to him and cried with him and told him that no-one had survived.

Nevada. Where was she now? Had she stayed at the Moment d'Evasion, singing sultry songs in seedy outfits for leering men? Probably. He couldn't imagine her anywhere else, not with the Vegas mob breathing down her neck; the Brawlers had been a one in a million chance of escape and it was nothing short of a miracle that she was still alive. Thinking of her was bitter and it left a bad taste in his mouth. He had lain awake so often thinking of how she was coping- she was the only thing on his mind for those awful months after Mouse left. Yet, all along, she had known that the girl was alive, hiding, creeping around in the shadows and following through with his plan without him.

Four years he had thought her dead. Four, whole, sickening years. And now he was the one in the splinter chair, being asked about her location.

"I'd rather not, really."

Set smacked him round the cheek. He winced.

"It doesn't look like you have much choice, to be honest. You know we'll find her now she's back, don't you? There won't be a single house left unsearched… We'll smoke the Mouse out of her hole eventually." The reptile woman grinned. Bluetooth could swear her cheekbone was going to poke out of her skin.

"Funny, really. My sides are splitting."

Smack. Wince.

"I'll split your sides, smart-ass. Just wait." Yes, Bluetooth thought, I was right as usual. Phantom.

"Unless you want her to suffer when we get her, I suggest you seriously rethink your action plan. We normally get on so well!"

"Like a house on fire, right?" Set's eyebrows shot up. "Sorry, did you want to set yourself up for that remark? It's not a touchy subject, in case you were wondering."

Smack. Wince.

"Where did you send the Mouse?"

"Just put out some cheese, she'll come to you, right?" It was out before he could realise what a mistake he'd made. Set's eyes glistened, and a malicious smile spread over her face. Bluetooth wanted to check that he hadn't been turned to stone by the sight.

"What an excellent idea! Phantom, did you hear that? The cheese just introduced itself to the platter!"

"Not enough." Phantom's voice was deep, raspy and exactly how one imagines a serial killer might sound.

"What?" Set's voice was the ultimate contrast- an outraged squeak more like a little girl who cut the hair off her doll to discover it looked nicer long.

"Not enough cheese."

* * *

"So," Liza began, biting her chapped lip and pulling at her hair in a subconscious attempt to cover her scars. "Let's talk"

"Liza, I'm sorry."

The two girls were sat next to each other on the sofa, holding one another's hands. Maggie was quivering, terrified of being told off; Liza was going into shock from the chaos of the day, and neither were really prepared to discuss anything. The younger girls blue eyes were streaming, her face matching her hair colour and she gripped so hard on her sister's hands that her knuckles were turning white.

There really was nothing to discuss.

Liza knew that her sister would never intentionally scare her, and that with all of the travelling and chaos over the past days there was no question that she had forgiven the little girl. In fact, for the moment she was more concerned about her own state. Seeing attractive, white-haired (oh yeah, and imaginary) snow spirits was new to the woman, even though she had known she was on the brink for a while. She even got a pen and paper pad when they were in Paris, and wrote for 6 hours straight in one particularly cold night about her theories on why she was so… damaged. It dissolved into melancholy and bitter ramblings after about thirty words, but she had tried.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she began to cry. She didn't sob, or squeak, or make any of the other irritation noises people made when the cried- she just let the salty droplets roll down the path of her scars, across her lips and onto her shirt. It was a nice shirt, as well, even if it was far too big. It had lasted Liza about 2 years, and had been patched up with all sorts of material, giving it an artsy look which Liza appreciated. If she was going to get funny looks in the street, it allowed her to blame it on something other than her face.

She lifted Maggie onto her lap, wrapped her arms around the child and whispered two words:

"I know."

* * *

Jack had been floating outside the window for some time, more than a little confused. He wouldn't deny that he had a smile on his face as he watched the older girl. It was rare to find anyone who was so deeply devoted to another, and with his newly discovered memories he couldn't help but feel that they had shared at least some experiences.

The main reason for his staying, however, was that she had_ seen_ him. Not for long, and she had accidentally slapped him, but he did make a cake appear to fly around the room and scare her witless so it was probably justified. He was curious- infuriating so! Both girls were anything but normal (he swore he saw Maggie dip her hand into the receptionists coat pocket… The cow was complaining about missing her gum just earlier, wasn't she?) and he just knew that there was more to them that it seemed.

Maggie was a lovely kid though- he couldn't argue with that. She hadn't complained or lost her temper or done anything, other than shown a tendency towards kleptomania, wrong. North would have a field day with that kid. She reminded Jack of one of the elves, in all honesty.

Yes, Jack was definitely curious. He'd investigate when the busy season was over; he could wait that long at least. Hopefully.

* * *

This took ages to put up, and it's not even that long, but between singing exams and drama exams and English, you guessed it, exams, I've been fairly busy. Number of reviews dropped last chapter, down to just the one, but it was so lovely it definitely made up for it so thank you JukeboxHero333. You seriously made me happy. I'm really starting to get into writing this story- it was just an idea to begin with but I've got half a notebook full of character profiles and plot points now!

Anything you like, don't like, are confused about, anything at all, drop me a line in a review or PM if you'd rather.


	7. Chapter 7

In Which Liza Declares Herself Supreme Champion Of The Universe

By the time the morning came, everything seemed easier. Nothing had changed, exactly, but both of the Kennedy sisters had a good feeling. So good, in fact, that Liza had decided before she even rolled off the couch that she was going to wear her hair back, exposing her face for once. Neither girl could recall exactly why they had fallen asleep on the couch rather than the comfy bed, but it was still a good night's sleep compared to some of the places they had slept in the last few years.

The snow outside was enchanting to see, now that they had time to really appreciate it. Europe's snow had been considered an inconvenience; it was cold and stopped you from travelling anywhere, plus it was never any good for making snowmen or snowballs. It was too crumbly. Today, though, Liza was going to introduce Maggie to a real snow day. Perhaps some of the other kids would be in the park, and they could join in. It had been a long time since either girl had spent time with other humans- it was easy to forget that they were around sometimes. Previously, Liza had tried to avoid parks in the snow. Just thinking about it made her see that nauseating (and slightly beautiful) red spilling onto the white. It was so crisp, so bold, so agonizingly painful…

But for the first time in a long time, the memory didn't scare Liza, and she was about as able to say why as she could explain the overwhelming feeling of absolute unspoiled happiness that had come over her. That was, not at all. She sifted through the one enormous suitcase that they owned, pulling out a pair of trainers for herself and some of Maggie's little leather boots. They would be waterproof enough, and they each had a coat hanging on the back of the door. She glanced at Maggie, sleeping as though she was dead to the world, and slipped into the en-suite. Her sponge was still in the bottom of the shower where she had left it yesterday, and it could stay there for today. The hairbrush on the tiny corner shelf needed replacing- the handle itself had broken off, and the tips had been worn off of the spines, leaving it sharp and painful to use. Still, it would do for now, and Liza tugged it through the mass of curls that sat on her head. Her hair was getting greasy, but it would survive another day without a wash. It would just get soaked in the snow anyway. She pulled it back into a loose ponytail, plaiting it as she admired herself in the mirror. She considered herself very lucky that her hair was so striking- it almost balanced out the state of her face.

"Li, where are my socks?"

Me-time was over.

"Have you checked on your feet, angel? I think you slept in them!"

"There they are!" Maggie squealed delightedly, to the amusement of her sister. She walked out of the bathroom and saw Maggie turning her socks inside out.

"You can just put another pair on, Mags, there's laundry here. Unless you _want_ to smell…?" Liza teased, pinching her nose.

"I don't smell, you smell!" Maggie said indignantly.

"I know I smell good! Forget that, though, we've got plans today!" Maggie's eyes glazed over and her smile drooped. "What's wrong, angel?"

"We aren't moving so soon, are we?" She sounded so hopeless that Liza swore her heart broke just a little bit.

"Of course not! We only just got here!"

"We've moved faster before…"

"Not this time. I promise! That was different, anyway, the man next door had a…" Liza shuddered.

"Dog. I know. What are we doing then?"

"Get your boots on, kid; I'm gonna introduce you to a snow day!"

* * *

He knew who was sitting on the chair behind him, similarly strapped in, but he wasn't sure he was ready to talk to her. There wasn't an awful lot to say, really, and certainly not with Phantom sat at the door. The CEO (Chief Espionage Officer) hadn't taken his eyes off the hacker and the singer for the last three hours they had sat here. Bluetooth wasn't certain, but he didn't think he'd seen him blink for all that time either. Not a word had been spoken in all the time that had passed, and the air in the room was clammy with tension and unspoken words. The man didn't think he could take another seconds silence.

"So, got enough cheese yet? I hear there's a delightful little shop downtown that sells lovely brie…" Phantom grunted, and Nevada sighed. "So, feeling chatty are we?"

"Ah got nothin' ta say to ya, sugah." Nevada spat.

She was furious. Not only had Liza been stupid enough to come back to America, bringing that darned kid back with her, but she flew back to Detroit. _Detroit!_ Liza was more of a daughter to Nevada than her own baby girl back in Vegas. She had risked her life to get her away from Caster, and she'd be damned if she didn't die before shouting the kid's ear off. At least, that's how she would have liked to have felt. Instead of a devil-may-care succubus bitch sitting in the chair, there was a worry-sickened old woman biting her lip and blaming everyone for a stroke of bad luck -and stupidity, she reminded herself.

"Hypocrite…" Bluetooth rolled his eyes. Ugh,_ women_.

"Excuse me?!"

"You haven't had anything to say to me for the last four years, _sugah_," he imitated her so badly he could almost feel the scowl he was no doubt receiving.

"Oh save it, mistah. Who got her busted in tha first place, _nerd_?"

"Save it." Phantoms voice echoed through the basement, bouncing off the walls and silencing both the fuming captives. "Fight like children, using petty jibes as weapons if you must, but do so quietly."

That's exactly what the pair did. It was one way to pass the time, at least.

* * *

They had started the day with a snowball fight, which had eventually grown from battle to war, Maggie and Liza teaming up with Jaimie and one of his friends (Liza had long since forgotten his name.) against nine or ten other kids. Surprisingly, they had won, though the kids claimed that it was because Jack was on their side. Way to make me feel appreciated, guys, she thought- jeez, lay off the praise a little!

The snowball war was promptly followed by a snowman building competition. Liza and Maggie won for size, since Liza was about twice the height of everyone else playing, but Jamie and _Jack_won for detail. That kid had some serious skill with the snow- it was less a snowman and more an ice sculpture. Apparently, Jack was getting competitive. But it wasn't until Liza decided that she had had just about enough of an imaginary friend beating her that she suggested the sled race. She just about threw her arms up in the air with frustration when she saw the smirk grow on Jamie's face- but she was hit with inspiration in a similar manner to that of a snowball earlier in the day.

"You have to build the sled." She grinned, winking at Maggie when the little girl looked up at her questioningly.

"What?!" Jamie shouted, "That's not fair!"

"Of course it is. You have, let's say 20 minutes, starting now, to build the best sled you can out of whatever you can find in the park!"

Liza was running before she finished the sentence. She was going to obliterate the competition, once and for all, and declare herself supreme champion of the universe. Perhaps she was getting a little over-competitive, but nobody could blame her for having seen an opportunity and taken it; an opportunity in the form of a fairly clean looking dustbin lid near the park entrance. She giggled- all the kids would be strapping sticks together with anything on hand.

"Liza…" Maggie started, biting at her lip.

"Yeah?" Liza was strolling towards the statue where they would all meet with their sleds and glanced over her shoulder to speak to Maggie.

"Are you sure it'll work?" Liza gasped melodramatically- she could mess with her sister while she waited for the other kids to arrive.

"Do you… doubt me?" She began, holding back a giggle. Maggie didn't bother to do the same. "My own sister- my own flesh and blood! Oh, the betrayal!"

"Li…"

"I mean, to think that I trusted you…!"

"Liza…"

"No- don't speak to me, evil one!"

"LIZA!" Maggie shouted just as the snowball hit the back of Liza's head. "I tried to warn you!" She chuckled.

Liza turned around and for a few seconds, she was sure that her heart stopped beating. There was, at Jamie's feet, four sticks- two runners and two seats, frozen inside a solid block of sled shaped ice. The redhead stared at it, blinking rapidly, stuttering out 'how's, and 'what's. She pulled her long plait over her shoulder, fiddling nervously with the end. The dustbin lid in her hand didn't seem quite so ingenious, now.

The race itself was a straight course down the hill and across the lake (Liza considered it more of a pond, really, but Jamie seemed offended when she said that, and she received a snowball to the head when she turned her back). It started off with Jamie obviously in the lead, Maggie sat between Liza's knees on the dustbin lid trailing behind, until Liz twisted violently sideways, up a seemingly insignificant little mogul like a ramp and gaining just enough air to land next to Jamie. That was when she saw the ice that was appearing in front of his sled, like magic, and decided to cut in. She leant to the side, easing her puny dustbin lid in front of the ice-sled and zooming forward with the temporary lack of friction. She went flying toward the lake, reaching it just as Jamie pulled up to her side. In a last ditch effort, seeing the tree line at the end of the ice, she stuck her hand into the snow beside her, spraying it into Jamie's face. He spluttered, rocked a little and lost a tiny bit of ground- just enough for Liza to cross off of the lake and jump into the air, swinging Maggie around her in a great big circle.

"Take that, Jack Frost!" She cried, "Eat my snow!"

"She cheated, I mean c'mon, that last move she pulled…!" Liza turned toward the new voice and squeaked. There was a boy, floating on a stick, waving his arms around in frustration as he ranted to Jamie. The white hair and blue hoodie were familiar- she realised she had seen them last night. She bet that if he would turn around she'd see those same striking blue eyes…

And then she realised he was actually flying. Like the cake, but less… cakey. And more… boy-ey. And she flat out fainted.

* * *

And, Chapter 7. I hope you enjoyed this one, it was kind of a filler because I don't want to rush the plot and make it seem like everything happens at once, and also make sure the characters are fully developed. Bluetooth and Nevada, for example, are about to become very key in the narrative and I really want them to strike a chord with you guys as readers, especially when *spoilers* something happens. *end spoilers*. Anyway, thanks again to JukeboxHero333 whose review was lovely and made me grin like a Cheshire cat. It was the only one however, have you all become shy? ;)

Anyway, any comments about the pacing, the characters, the plot, your mum's pie, whatever. Drop me a review, or PM if you'd prefer. Hope you enjoyed :)


	8. Chapter 8

In Which A Mini-Fridge Is Like A Writing-Desk.

She had woken up half an hour ago, back in her motel room. Maggie was curled into her chest on the bed, breathing slowly and deeply; she was fast asleep. Liza couldn't quite determine whether or not she had been dreaming- but her clothes and plait were soggy with melted snow and evidence of the snowman building competition she had hosted could be seen through her window. But there was something else… That boy! He was flying (well, hovering more like) and that must have been a dream, surely. Of course, Liza had simply hit her head on the sled and dreamed the rest after that!

There was no trace of a bruise, that she could find. Just old scars.

Liza stood, walking around the room. She wasn't certain exactly what she was looking for- until she saw the cake. Her stomach growled- it sound surprisingly menacing. The chocolate sponge was still wrapped in cling film, and still looked delicious. Although she was no expert on cakes, she didn't think one night and day would make it bad- but it contained egg, right? Wasn't that dangerous? Liza bit her lip, feeling more than a little hungry. Dammit, she thought, what the hell! She had, after all, eaten much worse. She brought it over to the couch, storing half in the mini fridge that stood on the tiny coffee table. She sliced the remaining half into two, putting Maggie's slice away with the rest of the cake. She attributed the chill that ran down her spine to a draft from the fridge; as she sat down to eat.

She was struck with guilt as she realised why she was so hungry: it was easily midnight and she and Maggie hadn't eaten since the sandwich she made at about half one… It was unusual for Liza to ever let Maggie go hungry even (as it often was) at the cost of her own meals. She took a bite of the rich chocolate cake, and her eyes widened. It was absolutely heavenly. The rest of the piece she devoured, grinning like a lunatic. She hadn't had food this good in months- since Maggie's birthday, in fact. Liza wondered if she just had a thing for cake.

It was just as she swallowed the last crumbs when she heard the scratching. It wasn't a threatening sound, and it was one she recognised well- pen on paper. She could identify it immediately, from hours sat in Casters office listening to him as he wrote memo after letter after death threat. There was no one else in the room- there couldn't be. The doors and window hadn't been opened and besides, she could see with her own eyes that unless they were in the en suite or under the bed the only inhabitants of the room were Maggie and herself. The scratching was brief, and as Liza stood up to look for the source of the sound it stopped. She couldn't help but be relieved.

At least, until she saw the paper that had been placed on top of the mini-fridge. Liza's immediate reaction was to turn to Maggie, and check she was safe. The little girl was exactly as she had been when Liza last looked. Safe. Liza didn't think she felt scared so much as confused, with a big dollop of concern mixed in. It was when she felt like this that the automatically reached for her father's pen knife hanging from a string on her belt loop. Knife in hand, she cautiously reached for the paper, which she immediately dropped when she read the few words scrawled on it in an extremely untidy hand. It simply read:

"_Was it good?"_

Liza didn't know what to think. Her mind raced as it tried to explain this one, but drew a great big blank. For a moment, she thought of something crazy; no beyond crazy, absolutely _lunatic._ Something that was just plain foolish but undeniably tempting. She could write back. Liza shook her head. It was a childish thought. Curiosity killed the cat, don't you know? But still, it couldn't cause that much harm, could it? A flush of excitement ran through her at the idea- the kind of excitement that a child feel when writing a letter to Santa Claus. She picked up the blue biro that lay on the fridge with the paper, all the time warring with her over how childish she was acting. Her writing was neat, curly and very small, just how her mother had taught her. She started with something easy.

"_Delicious. Am I mad?"_

The moment the pen left her hand it was up again, but she wasn't supporting it this time. Liza felt woozy. She waved her hand in circles around the pen, and apart from the air being freezing there was just… nothing. Her breath hitched, and she folded her knife back up and placed it in her pocket. Tripping and falling on her own knife didn't seem like a clever way to die. The paper was thrust towards her, and she grabbed it urgently. There was something inherently magical about the experience; something extremely compelling.

"_Absolutely crazy. Don't feint again."_

Liza giggled as she wrote. The pen was telling the truth- she was insane. Why else would she be having a conversation with a flying pen? God, why was everything flying? The cake, the boy, the pen, the boy…

"_You're Jack Frost, aren't you?"_

She swore that she saw a flash of a pale hand snatch the pen away and continue writing. The mini fridge wasn't a very good writing desk, and the paper was slipping all over the place as the pen started to run out and scribbled in a corner. She grabbed the pen, meaning to blow through the back and push some ink out, but it was icy to touch. The ink was frozen solid.

"What the… I've got another one. Wait here!" Liza said, reaching for the side pocket of her suitcase. It always had a notebook and pencil in there. A pencil wouldn't freeze, either, she thought, and then dropped it to the floor. Her eyes were wide, the mossy green brighter than normal as she realised exactly how foolish she was being. Go see a doctor. It was the only sensible option from here on out. She was having conversations with imaginary flying winter spirits, and she was worried about her ink being frozen! It was ridiculous. Despite the physical evidence, there were probably all sorts of explanations that a few brain drugs would set right in moments!

Just as she was thinking this, the pencil wrenched itself from her hand and started writing on the paper on the mini fridge. It was done quickly, and the writing was hardly legible.

"_One and only__!__"_ It said, and despite herself she giggled. As if she didn't have enough on her mind she was losing it!

She snatched the pencil back and wrote down one last question. She resolved to go to bed after this, whether or not she was being watched by a slightly creepy invisible boy.

"_Why can't I see you?"_

The reply was the fastest yet, as if the question was anticipated.

"_Because you won't let yourself believe."_

* * *

Bluetooth found his imprisonment highly illogical, and incredibly inconvenient. There was also a degree of unpleasant, and awkward. Nevada thought it was a god-awful grind-joint filled with turkeys. He didn't pretend to understand her, and she didn't bother explaining. It was a long-standing understanding between them they never had to explain themselves to each other. He had been painfully reminded why he was always so obsessed over her those long months he spent incarcerated. Her wit was sharp and clever and funny, even when it was directed to him. Both of them were stubborn, and neither would apologise to the other, although they talked over everything that had happened since they saw each other last. He knew Nevada was softening toward him again. 48 hours tied to someone forced you to bond, he supposed.

Nevada had explained everything to him; how she had dragged Liza kicking and screaming from the fire with Maggie in her arms, how she sent the girls overseas to a friend in England. How Liza ran off after just a year- a fifteen year old and a two year old baby against the world. It was a miracle that they were even alive, let alone fed, clothed and together!

The door, a heavy, metal, intimidating thing, was flung open and a slender looking woman shouted in.

"We've had a hit! Up north. Prison watch caught her in Burgess. Target is unaware that she's compromised."

Phantom stood up, calmly, walked towards the woman at the door, and grabbed her by the collar. He shoved her forward, out of Bluetooth's peripheral vision and into Nevada's. She could see him better- there was a couple of flickering electric lights hanging from the ceiling. His dark arm had the lanky dishwater blonde pinned to one of the piles of wine barrels.

"You mean to tell me," With his free arm he turned the tap, letting small dregs of wine spill out intermittently. "Fahrenheit," He spat her name mockingly and planted his knee in her stomach. "That I've been guarding bait that we don't," he used his free hand to grab her wrist. "Even." He twisted her wrist brutally, and the sound of splintering bones mingled with Fahrenheit's whimper. "_Need!?"_ He trust his head forward, smashing hers back into the barrels.

Before he left, he cupped his hands out under the tap and took a deep drink of the purple fluid, and kicked over the chairs that the captives were sat on. The only sounds in the basement were the sobs from the messenger and the dripping wine.

* * *

Off sick from school- the logical thing to do is write. Reading the reviews, I can honestly say I'm so glad you're enjoying this! Thank-you to CeeCee-chi, Zarelyn, Jetafray Angel and of course JukeboxHero333 for all your lovely comments!

So, we've got a teency bit more insight into Liza's past, but the floodgates will open soon... And communication has been established :D Hope you enjoy and feel free to leave a review :)


	9. Chapter 9

In Which Liza Insists That She Has The Right To Be Mentally Ill

Fahrenheit had been silent for about an hour now, her sobs dying out into the occasional sniffle that broke through the grey light of the basement. Nevada couldn't help it; she considered her soft heart her ultimate weakness, but she wanted so badly to help the girl. Strapped into a chair that was currently lying on its side, with all of her blood gathering on the left side of her body, there wasn't an awful lot she could do without someone to cut her out. She kept hoping, so badly, that someone would come down to fetch them and she could convince them to let her out. She had dirt on almost every male involved with the Brawlers. The women were more difficult, usually smarter, and their boyfriends didn't sit at the bar and have drinks and gossip with her every evening. The Vegas doll was certainly a pistol, and she wanted to remain that way. If she kept getting maternal of every girl that needed her help around here then that wouldn't be an option.

It was Brody's fault. If he hadn't gone and gotten her pregnant, then it would have all been fine. If Anna hadn't been hit by that damn car, she could have lived a normal, wonderful life with her mother. If Samantha Hendricks hadn't accidentally gotten the driver arrested because he pulled a damned gun on her when she hit him, then everything would have been peachy. And if that stupid driver hadn't been fairly high in the Vegas mob's chain of command, then Samantha wouldn't have had to flee the state and change her name. Unfortunately, life thoroughly enjoyed screwing Nevada.

In Mouse, she had seen the girl Anna might have been. Now, she was fighting hard not to do the same with Fahrenheit. The girl was 18, maybe 19 years old and probably utterly devoted to Caster. Almost everyone was these days- if they weren't, they were gone already. There were a few exceptions, of course. She and Jay were living proof of that. Caster had gotten nasty after Liza left. Everyone knew he was grooming her up to take over. There was only one explanation for getting someone in so young- he needed to condition her with meticulous care. He had had plenty of choice amongst the Brawlers, but he didn't want anyone who was already formed. He wanted the new boss to run the Brawlers by asking themselves, 'What would Caster do?'

Nevada supposed it was some bizarre god complex and desire for immortality that led him to mess up a little girl's life so badly. He saw something in her, something ruthless. Something hard and bitter and lonely, something made her so very vulnerable to his attempts at worming his way into her mind. Nevada wondered exactly what had made him so cruel. His origins weren't exactly a common topic amongst his gang, but although Nevada was more informed than the average muscle, even she knew very little of his mysterious life before. She had heard enough rumours to write a book about him, but the truth was more awkward to pin down. He had been born in Canada, she was fairly certain, and his father owned a large amount of land that was rich in oil. He came into lots of money from this, obviously, but died soon after in suspicious circumstances. Maybe accusing Caster was a bit of a stretch, but since he went off the map for years after that, Nevada it was a fairly safe assumption. After that though, there was nothing. Everyone was either ignorant or silent.

Set was the only person who may know, but she was too much of a boot-licking, greasy bitch to ever let it out. Phantom would know most everything about the Brawlers since long before Caster took over, but he was probably in the dark as much as everyone else when it came to the man himself.

One of Fahrenheit's sobs broke her reverie. Nevada couldn't just lie here, waiting to be rescued, especially with an injured girl on hand. In fact, the injured girl might be her best resource at the moment...

"Sugah? Are y'alright?" She asked softly. She knew it was a stupid question, but she needed to open a conversation somehow.

"No." There was no spite in her voice, just desperation. Nevada's heart cracked open. Bluetooth was strangely silent- normally he would make an irritating sarcastic remark. She supposed he was as upset as she was.

"Kay then, sweetie. Ah can get ya out of here and to a hospital, but ah need ya to do something for me." It was difficult, trying to make her voice sound gentle and not too patronising. She was awfully good at speaking, though, as a by-product of working in show business, and she taught everything she knew to Liza. Mouse had a knack for manipulation, which Nevada guessed was from spending too much time with Caster, and she could con a bum out of his last dollar, but she had nothing on her teacher. Nevada had grown up in Vegas- lying wasn't an art there, as much as a way of life.

"What do you need?" Fahrenheit asked, voice cracking under the pain she was enduring. Bluetooth snorted, and if she could have seen him, Nevada would have glared.

"There's a knife in my back jeans pocket. Ah know tha' you're in pain but if ya can get it and cut through just one of my bindings…" Nevada trailed off as she saw the girl start to stand. She was more than mildly impressed; obviously the kid was tougher than she had given her credit for. Nevada couldn't help wincing as the girl walked over, holding her wrist awkwardly; she could swear that there was bone poking through. The knife was poking out of the top of her pocket, and it was easy for Fahrenheit to grab it. Cutting wouldn't be too hard with her uninjured hand, but Nevada knew that there was a heavy risk of her slipping and slicing into her hand. The girl flinched so often that the singer wondered if she would pass out from the pain, but she kept sawing away at the ropes until finally Nevada told her to stop. "It's thin enough, now, I 'spect. If I just…"

With a flick of her wrist, her hand was unrestricted, and she could saw her way out of the other bindings. To free Bluetooth and herself didn't take Nevada five minutes, despite her lack of experience with the knife. She always kept it on her, but she had never had any use for it besides looking threatening before. Bluetooth looked at her and shook his head.

"What now then, hey? How the hell are we supposed to get out?" He was angry, obviously, but Nevada couldn't think for the life of her why.

"Excuse me? We go out the door, Mistah Confrontational." He opened his mouth to shout something, but she raised her hand. "Pull yourself together; we got a show to run. Ah don't need ya sending this south cause ya under the 'llusion tha ah betrayed ya, kay sunshine?"

"They'll all have left, now. Caster was really worked up about spottin' that girl. Sent almost everyone. Nails and Phantom are staking out with two teams of six." Fahrenheit offered.

"Ya know what? Ah think ah just started ta like the first half of organised crime." Bluetooth rolled his eyes. "Darlin', we gon' drop ya off at tha hospital. Then, Blue, ya and ah, we gon' rush off to wherever you sent Mouse and rescue her."

"Burgess. She's in Burgess." Bluetooth sounded off… He wasn't used to doing things other people's way, with Caster's exception.

"Good lad." Something clicked in Nevada's mind, "Not… ya idiot! Ya reckless deadbeat! Ya sent her _there!_" She screeched. How could he be so damn stupid!

"Yes, I didn't know they still had people watching thesupermax, and I didn't know that they were staying in Burgess!"

"They woulda checked there anyway! Ya spent months there after ya got out!"

"I made a mistake!"

"It could get her killed!"

"_Shut up_!" Fahrenheit screamed. "If you're both so worried about her, stop wasting your time arguing, and get me to the fucking hospital!"

Silence fell in the basement. Nevada stormed over to the door and slammed it open, jerking her head to tell the others to follow her. She crept up the stairs, but Bluetooth wasn't exactly light footed, and she hissed at him to stay silent. When they reached the top of the wooden staircase, Nevada saw four lower ranking men sitting at the table. Two of them had a gun at their hips. The woman thought about asking Fahrenheit why on earth she thought they were all gone, when there were clearly a group of dangerous men guarding their escape route, but decided against it. She would just have to distract them; she was good at that. Turning to the pair behind her, she gestured for them to push back, and walked up to the top of the stairs laughing obnoxiously.

"Thought ah'd cut 'im loose! Gullible…" She looked over at the group of men and swore. "Thought it was meant ta be empty!"

Nevada ran across the club like her feet were on fire. There was a trapdoor on the stage- if she could just get under that then she could crawl out backstage. The men wouldn't have a clue where the tunnel let out, and it locked from the inside as well as the out. Bluetooth watched nervously as she disappeared under the stage, madly worried about her. It was like this when they were linked by their love of Mouse, as well as their growing fondness for each other. She would take some stupid risk using nothing but her charms and good luck to keep her safe, and he would watch and operate safely in the background. He understood that she felt responsible for him- she did have five years on him, but it really didn't matter since he was 22, and spending 8 months in maximum security prisons aged him far beyond his peers mentally. He knew one of these days, one of her stupid plans wouldn't work and someone would get hurt. Probably her.

He grabbed Fahrenheit's good arm and bolted for the door- it was unlocked. The men wanted to go out for their smokes, after all, and having to constantly unlock it would be inconvenient. The morons were too busy trying to shoot Nevada through the floor to notice them, or the noise they made as they charged outside. Bluetooth glanced around the car park, searching for the oldest car. The new ones were a bitch to hotwire, even for a nerd like himself.

In less than five minutes, Jay Cromwell was flying along the roads in an open top Golf GTI that had to be at least twenty years old. He had slicked his brown hair back about three days ago- how long had they been in those chairs with only daily toilet breaks?- and by now it was flying everywhere in the wind. He was growing a beard as well; he would have to sort out his personal hygiene once he had saved Liza's life.

* * *

"What do you do if anyone other than Jamie knocks on the door?" Liza asked for the tenth time.

"Jaaack! Tell Liza to go already and stop worrying." Maggie whined. Liza had come to terms with her insanity and just accepted that she was trusting her sister into the hands of their shared imaginary friend. He had insisted, via paper, that if she stopped thinking she was mentally ill, then she would see him. She had insisted that she was an 18 year-old-girl with a five year-old to look after, who had escaped from the clutches of a life in organised crime only to have her house burned to the ground, killing her parents in the process, which all meant that she had every right to be mentally ill. In fact, he being insane was a very rational explanation.

He changed the subject, after that.

"Maggie! What do you do? I'll leave when you tell me."

"Climb out the window onto the branch and lie down flat. I'm not to make a sound until I'm sure they have gone then I shout for help and tell everyone I climbed up there but couldn't get down." Maggie had repeated this phrase about seven times in the past few minutes. Liza thought about having her hide somewhere less dangerous, but there wasn't a decent hiding place in the whole room. If the Brawlers came knocking (which they wouldn't, she reminded herself) Maggie would be found immediately.

"What don't you do?"

"I don't, at all, ever, by any means; attempt to climb down on my own." Again, Maggie could have repeated this phrase in her sleep.

"Good girl. I'll be five minutes. Ten at the longest. If I'm gone for more than an hour, go to Jamie's house. Okay?"

"Okay! You're only going to the shop!"

"But you shouldn't be left alone! If you weren't ill, I'd bring you!"

Apparently, snow days weren't all fun and games. Maggie had gotten a cold, which Liza was convinced was the flu and could kill her precious baby girl. She wasn't to get out of bed for anything short of an emergency, or Liza would kick her ass.

"Jack's here- I won't be alone!" Liza rolled her eyes.

"I'm so reassured." She muttered, as she shut the door behind her.

The trip to the shop was uneventful to say the most. Liza slipped on the ice a couple of times, and pondered the meaning of life for a while, but nothing actually happened. The little corner shop also happened to be out of horse radish, which was okay, because both Liza and Maggie hated it and it wasn't on their shopping list. No, the shopping trip was nothing to panic about.

What Liza found when she got back to the room, however, certainly was.

* * *

So, less Liza, more build up and disaster strikes. Short authors note because I'm going straight onto writing the next chapter, which should be up tomorrow. Huge thank-you to all reviewers: Jetafray Angel, mr. unicorn, CeeCee-chi, and JukeboxHero333. By the way, quick question, do you all like my little 'In Which' titles? I like them, but since they're far too long to fit into the chapter title field they seem kind of futile. Still, they're kind of a mini-summary, I suppose XD


	10. Chapter 10

**In Which The Unthinkable Is Not Only Thought Of, But Actually Occurs**

The room was exactly as she left it, which immediately triggered Liza's constantly-armed, top-of-the-range mental alarms. She had expected the place to be destroyed- even if Jack was imaginary he seemed fairly lively and Maggie was over-excitable at the best of times. But the girl was still in bed, glaring straight at Liza with her father's piercingly blue eyes, and Liza knew immediately that it was a warning. Her hand slipped to her knife subconsciously, flipping it open before she even pulled it off her belt. There was something very wrong.

_A girl, with a shorty bob of red hair flying wildly around her face and green eyes that were carefully blank, sat on a comfortable single bed. The room she sat in was colour co-ordinated; creamy walls with borders the same colour as the child's hair. A lot of care and love had been poured into making the bedroom perfect for the fourteen-year-old, partially as bribery from her parents, a plea that said "Stay at home once in a while! We love you and know that you have a busy social __life;__ you're a teenager for God's sake__, but come home once in a while Liza, you're scaring us!" The house was too quiet; the child on the bed worried over the lack of noise from her sister's cries or her parent's laughter.__ If she had known that the unusual warmth she felt was from a blazing fire two floors below her, and her parent's silence was due to the carbon monoxide slowly stealing the oxygen from their bodies, the tragedy which followed might have been averted._

The growl, a snarling, nauseatingly familiar noise, came from in the en-suite. It provoked in Liza a fear that she thought she had squashed a long, long time ago, and she whipped round, her greasy, untamed hair adding to her glassy eyes making her almost feral in appearance. Maggie drew in a breath suddenly and let it out far more shakily than she had any right to; she was five, and should never sound so world-weary. Liza's eyes darted around the room, her conflict of interests making it hard for her to focus anywhere. Concern for her sister clashed with the guttural, paralyzing fear of the creature that she knew was in her apartment.

_Richard and Marian Kennedy believed that ice-cream could cure anything. Medicine for the soul, they called it, as they grinned at their only daughter. She thought that ice cream in the snow was ridiculous. She also thought that her parents were ridiculous, and that her Dad's new job was especially ridiculous. In fact, she thought that whatever was more important to her dad than time with her was downright stupid. The park was crisp, clear and glistening with snow- and it was barely touched off the path. The Kennedy's wanted to get there before it was ruined, and they had succeeded. The whole place looked like a Christmas card. But the crimson, when the dog found the girl, was one of the ugliest things that had ever graced the humble Detroit park with its aesthetics; perhaps with the exception (Liza later thought bitterly) of the remains of the girl who walked there whenever it was clear of snow._

The door to the room slammed shut and Liza couldn't bring herself to turn around. She could already guess who was there. "You remember Davidson, don't you, Liza?"

That voice… It was so cold. It was the most awful voice that Liza ever heard, despite its smooth flow and apparent lack of any accent whatsoever. Boredom. That's what Caster sounded like. Utter, complete, uncaring boredom, like he was watching a particularly uninteresting and disorganised stage show. Liza wondered how low she must have stooped when that voice was her rock, how it was possible for something so detached and deeply disturbing to be comforting. She supposed that if Maggie had never been born she would never have become… disillusioned with him. The Stockholm syndrome might still have gripped her as hard as she had gripped Bluetooth and Nevada as they pulled her out of the pit of metal sicknesses that the Brawlers had thrown her into. Nevada… It was strange how even in a frantic state, the word calmed her. It was almost synonymous with 'mother' and she never even found out the woman's actual name.

_"I have to get away. Maggie can't be involved in this life." The girl took a deep breath, staring right into the eyes of the beautiful woman she was speaking to. "And neither can I. Not anymore." _

_The hand that gripped her shoulder comfortingly was strong and skinny, well used to typing for hours on end, and there was something that just felt **right** when she was with both of her guardians. They were her family- even more so than her parents, with bonds forged in pain and support and desperation rather than blood. She was mature enough now to realise what she had done to them, to see them looking at her for the first time with something other than pity in their eyes. There was pride in that gaze; there were memories of her parents looking at her like that, buried under three years of secrecy and isolation, and the girl realised that she had given both the nerdy adolescent and the weathered, beautiful woman something to hold onto. A purpose. A distraction, even, from the absolute futility of thinking that one day they might want to actually have a family of their own._

Maggie was Liza's only family, now, and the Black English Mastiff that was heaving its huge self into the room was a direct threat to her. Incredulously, the frantic girl span to Caster and started to giggle. The man hadn't bothered with a pretentious smile like Set always used to, but there was certainly something in his expression which seemed to disappear with the narrowing of his eyes. Saying the silver-haired man looked confused would be lying, as Caster hadn't shown actual emotion on his face for… well, forever in Liza's experience. But the young woman had other things on her mind, as she bit her lip in an attempt to control the hysteria that was warming through her stomach. That dog- that was no attack dog! When last she had seen it, the creature was muscle-bound, with its jowls constantly pulled back to expose the dangerous canines behind them, a creature that inspired pure panic just by being nearby. Its presence now was nothing short of pathetic, with its collar swallowed up in rolls of loose skin and jerky movements.

"Harley's even deader than this one, I suppose?" She snorted, her already rosy cheeks beginning to flush. How had this man scared her so much? He was nothing! He stood by the door, head tilted to the side slightly with the most serene expression betraying no trace of sentiment, and she realised how utterly vulnerable he was. Sure, he was clever and manipulative, but he was also just a dick. A school yard bully, with a Machiavellian streak. Nothing without his bodyguards- and he had chosen a weak, old war dog with three cracked teeth. She could see his play, of course, he had taught her all of his tricks. Paralyse her with an age old phobia. It hadn't even been that wretched creature that tore into her!

_Someone was shouting something about a motorbike in the distance. The girl in the snow was feeling strangely pleasant as the warmth flowed over her face, although it tasted awful. She knew she had given the dog some of the bread she was feeding to the pigeons, and she knew that it hadn't been interested in the bread. Pain was a warm sensation, she decided. Definitely- white hot and burning while the wounds were inflicted, and then it felt like she was in a hot bath with very unhealthy volumes of blood spilling out of her shredded torso and face. There were people calling for ambulances and faces appeared above her; her parents. She wanted to reach out and say "Don't look so scared. I feel fine." But all that came out was a gargle that they mistook for pain. Still, even as the world became blurry and the metallic taste clogged up her throat, she could hear someone yelling, loudly and angrily, for their damned motorbike._

Maggie whispered "Jack?"

Reality slammed into Liza like an 18 wheeler truck, robbing her of her air and turning her chuckles into racking sobs. She had lost control of her body to the overwhelmingly childish hysterics and was sure that in just a moment Set would thrust open the door with some reprimand about her behaviour in front of the boss and she would kick the lizard woman in the shins, just like in the good old days. Hours on end in Caster's office, or playing one of his ridiculous games.

_"When you threaten someone, never start with the family. That's your secret ace-in-the-hole, Mouse, that you never take on an enemy you don't know your way around. You start with psychological means. Find an old emotional scar; everyone has one. If I told you that your face was disgusting to look at and that I felt so sorry for you having to see it every morning that I wanted to gouge out your other eye, you would be very upset, wouldn't you?" His answer was a whimper of acknowledgement, which possibly sounded like 'Yessir'. "Then you would be vulnerable. Sad people are always the most vulnerable, Mouse, because they have broken down the barriers in their mind for you. If you still can't make someone do what you want, you take that pigsticker from your belt and take the nail off their left little finger. Can you do that? Of course you can. If they still think they're tough, they're morons, and you pull out the family card. You slice them up, and tell them that for every wound they take, their *insert loved one here*will take two."_

_The girl stared her tutor in the eye, cold meeting frosty, and said with determination to please: _

_"Yes, sir."_

Caster smirked to himself. The first stage had played out nicely.

* * *

He felt utterly useless. Jack stood watching the scene wondering if a snowball would cut it to get the girl out of their admittedly unusual situation. Though his first instinct was to go straight out the window and fly towards the top of the Earth, somehow he thought that North would be as clueless as he was to fix this. A snowball certainly wasn't going to cut it, and he couldn't physically interact with Liza or the old man. But Maggie, he could protect. That was his job now, right? To look after kids? Liza might have qualified mentally (Jack had a sneaky suspicion that she was struggling with her perception due to suppressed childish urges) but she was undoubtedly an adult. No-one with the responsibilities she had could have qualified as a child.

His decision was impulsive, but so was almost everything he did. It was what Liza would want, he knew that, but it didn't make him feel any less guilty for what he was about to do. He floated over to Maggie slowly, regretting not doing this earlier as much as he regretted doing it now. The dog knew he was there- animals were keener that humans, and this one was evidently good at finding people who didn't want to be found. Neat trick for a gangster-dog. Despite himself, he couldn't help but think of the picture- the great Mastiff at a green felted poker table with other dogs, all wearing top hats and smoking cigars. The top hats might be a bit of a stretch, but the cigars were in it, definitely.

Maggie whispered: "Jack?" He raised a finger to his lips in the universal signal for 'Shut up I'm trying to help you so don't get me eaten by a big dog.' If only the ceilings were higher, he could be way out of its reach. Liza started shaking, choking on sobs and Jack had to resist the urge to grab her by the wrist and fly away with her to start a snowball fight, just to see the vibrant, life-filled girl he had glimpsed two days ago. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. She'd just feel a chill and he'd be no more help that he was now. Maggie was almost close enough that he could grab her hand, but her canine guard was in a similar position. It was simply a question of whether he could reach her first.

Of course he could. He was Jack Frost, for goodness sake! And the Mastiff was at least 15 years old, knocking on deaths door.

In less than a second, there was an unusually slippery slick of ice on the floor under the dog's feet. Jack zoomed forward, grabbed the tiny girl's wrist and hoisted her into the air and out of the window without turning around to see the look on Liza face. He was fairly sure it would be relieved.

* * *

Fahrenheit's 'brother' had dropped her off at the hospital after she had been beaten up by her ass of a 'boyfriend' and switched cars. The new car was an old dodge challenger- beat up and riddled with cigarette smoke but still fairly beautiful. Bluetooth could care less. He was only ten minutes outside of Burgess, and coherent thoughts were avoiding him like the plague. The only two women who had ever really meant anything to him were both _potentially_ dead, and it was _actually_ his fault. It was his plan that Nevada had used to get the girls out of the country. Fake passports he had forged himself, trust fund consisting of a lot rich, self-important, hacked people's money. _His_ damned _aunt_ that they had spent almost a year with in England. The hag never even called him to tell him how they were doing.

Caster was well aware of this plan being put into motion, apparently. The fire seemed like a logical idea to the psycho at the time- except Liza wasn't as out of the way as he would have liked. If Nevada hadn't dashed to the rescue, one of those women certainly wouldn't have been _potentially _dead. And if he hadn't have been so damned sentimental about the town where he had spent 5 months being relatively normal (He was glad so few people knew he was allegedly a murderous arsonist. Revenge, it is said, is a bitter pill to swallow, and Caster's was great. Months doing the jailhouse rock were bad enough, but framing him for Liza's death had crushed his very soul) after he got out of the big house then Liza might have been safe. He still didn't see what had possessed her to come back to the states- Michigan no less! - but assumed it had been a similar sense of nostalgia.

It took unpleasantly long to get to Burgess in the snow, although it was mild compared to when he was here last. The hotel he had stayed in had shut down, too, leaving only one place for the girls to stay. When he asked the receptionist if two redheads were staying her, she replied with a scathing remark.

"Aren't they popular today? Room 27."

The last seed of his hope was crushed, and Bluetooth knew, just _knew_ that he was too late.

* * *

And, chapter 10, in which the floodgates of Liza's past open. Apologies for the ridiculous upload time, but my laptop got coffee spilled on it Christmas morning, which sucked D: I've got a new computer, though, and managed to recover all of my files, so it's all good :) I'd like to thank, as usual, my reviewers, who never fail to make me smile: mr. unicorn, JukeboxHero333, VampWolf92 and nami uchiha shan XD Feel awesome- it's how I feel when I get a new review :)


	11. Chapter 11

Warning; language. One word, just worse than I've used so far. And violence, but that's been seen before here.

In Which a Girl from Vegas Does a Lot of Running

Behind her, the gunshots rang loud and clumsily. They were trying to shoot through the stage, but they lacked a certain finesse (not that Nevada could do any better). Every bang was accompanied by the crunch of splintering wood, which was more reassuring than a clang of metal would be- they hadn't figured out to shoot off the lock. Yet. One foot then another slapped the brick floor of the trapdoor tunnel, Nevada forcing her way through quickly, despite having to crouch to fit.

If Bluetooth didn't get home free with that poor kid she had charged him with, she'd slap him. He was responsible for the whole damn situation anyway. She remembered in vivid detail the day he had been taken away. Nails had his arms twisted harshly behind his back, holding him steady as Caster accused him of arson and murder. Twisted, cold words that writhed from his mouth in black tendrils that stabbed into her heart, igniting the warmth she felt for Bluetooth into a forest fire of fury. It wasn't him, she had dared to scream. Why are y'all still listening to this horse crap? Laughter, from the mouth of every deranged fool in the room, was the only reply she was graced with. They knew. She hung her head, blinking away the tears, her brown hair collapsing over her face and hiding the single droplet that slipped from under her full eyelashes.

Not him. They couldn't make her alone again- she had lost her baby girl, but she had found Liza and Bluetooth. Now she had hidden Liza away from everyone, including herself, and she was going to lose him too. Her breathing was labored and her palms red from the force of her fingernails driving into them. Mouse, Bluetooth, Nevada. Liza, Jay and Sam. They didn't know her name, she realised, oh God, she would be alone and no one would remember her name. Clammy fingers gripped her chin with force and thrust it upwards painfully, tossing her hair off her face. They were staring at her, everyone, but the only eyes she saw were his. I'm sorry, she mouthed, trying to shake her head free of Caster's bruising grip. Bluetooth shook his head once.

The hatch was awkward and rusty, long out of use. One kick. Nothing. Another. Some budge. A third- there were no more gunshots. The hatch cracked. The slap of feet moved closer as she lined up a fourth kick. It broke through. Her leg hurt, her body ached and her stomach was trying to empty itself with every breath, but she ran. She'd find her Liza, she'd find her Jay, and they'd be alright. They'd be together, a family. Not in genes, but forged in tears, blood and mutual hatred.

Perhaps not the healthiest bonds, Nevada mused.

The room the hatch led into was lined with mirrors and dressing tables on three sides, with tacky posters and photographs plastered everywhere there was wall space to cover up the peeling magnolia tones. There were postcards attached to the mirrors, some signed and dated in slanted calligraphy; others in faded scrawl of barely-educated farm boys writing to their sweethearts. The oldest dated back to 1932. Nevada had read every single one of them, sitting in the room alone, grasping every second she could. Nobody ever powdered their faces in here anymore.

Nevada stood and before she ran, snatched a postcard from the mirror next to the hatch and folding it small, she slipped it into her boot. Yanking open the door she could see nobody in the corridor, but the yelling of the guards was louder as they began to catch up. The fire exit was a straight sprint from where she stood, the light filtering through the bold red 'EXIT' on the door seeming to be one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. It was her freedom.

Her chest burned for water and her sprint was impeded by the dead leg she had given herself cracking open the hatch, but she made it to the door without giving her persuers an inch. They were much larger than her, and their struggle through the tunnel would make for a few spare seconds for the brunette. It was only when she made it through the door that her heart skipped a beat. The door slammed behind her, leaving nothing between her head and the gun pointed at it.

"I just want you to know that this is personal. I could let you walk away and nobody would care. You have no passport, no cash, a lot of someone elses blood on you… You're no danger to us. But I'm not going to. Because you have been a royal pain in my ass ever since that kid met you."

Chapped lips pulled back in a feral snarl that made her skin seem even thinner, Set's eyes were alight with the pure joy of a predator with cornered prey. Nevada snorted, bravado rising to her defense in seconds.

"Ya ain't gon' give me a monologue, are ya? Ain't that the bit where tha villain gets killed?"

"Caster actually liked you, you know? Wanted to keep you around. Said that you'd be a valuable morale booster if they could just_ break you in_. Guess that didn't work out." Set jabbed. She was trying so very hard to register emotionally. Nevada would not have it. She was the original silver-tongued word smith.

"Set, did ya choose ya own name?" Honey coated innocence coated her phrase; her voice would have better suited a pig-tailed little girl than the Amazonian it came from. Set blinked, confused at her flow being interrupted.

"Of course not. None of us did!" Her left hand twitched. Good- this was a question worth pursuing.

"Set the usurper, Egyptian God of chaos. Think he was gettin' at somethin there? Did he _tell_ ya to wait here?" A gamble, a bet, all in. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. She was Vegas at heart and when she didn't have a casino to bet in she gambled with other things.

"I don't like what you're implying. I don't have to listen to this!" The gun started to shake. She touched a nerve. A nice, long finisher was all she needed.

"But ya will, because if I can figure it out, anyone can. He knew it, ya know. Right from tha start… Tha' you wouldn't do well with the power you want to take. This is his lesson to ya- look at the chaos. Bluetooth's gone, Set. He's off to see the wizard, the 'Caster' and he's gonna put a bullet in ya masters brain because ya couldn't keep control. So this is his way of sayin' 'back the fuck off' because you are some useless addict he plucked off the streets to teach a lesson. That's what he does, isn't it? He get a kick out of bein' better. He flaunts it by trying to improve y'all! He is a textbook egomaniac! And you've given him exactly what he wanted, like the dumb pup ya're."

The gun slipped in Set's hand, and Nevada lashed out with a kick to the kneecap, disarming the reptilian woman as she crumpled. Nevada executed her with one fast shot through her temple at point blank range Before Set had even hit the ground. It didn't exactly require a crack shot, she thought, turning and running as fast as she could, her persuers appearing into the corridor from the dressing room door.

* * *

SO I UPDATED! How's that? It's been a stupid long time and there are no excuses really :( This is entirely Nevada-centric for a reason- each character is going to have a chapter following them at this point because they have all split up and it's tension building (or at least that's the idea) :) Next is Bluetooth, and there will be a little bit of Liza and Caster in it too. Following that if all goes to plan, the guardians will meet Maggie :D It's about time XD

Also, a huge thank you to JustPlainOldMe and VampWolf92 for their reviews :)


End file.
